Lyrics:
Shit, tired of gettin' shot at
Tired of gettin' chased by the police and arrested
Niggas need a spot where we can kick it
A spot where we belong,
Shit, tired of gettin' shot at
Tired of gettin' chased by the police and arrested
Niggas need a spot where we can kick it
A spot where we belong,
somethin', huh?
How come they never cross over to us, huh?
I never seen five niggas on Elvis Presley's album cover
these people albums I'm a charity too
I produce my own beats
I write by myself 'cause I'm a lyrical G
Record my own vids
Make a whole doc
Do my own media
heat
So come on get at me, or keep pursuing that act
Cause I know what the facts be, you a front man from backstreet boy
My backup singers back me up,
before you today to bring you a sample of our work
An LP, if you will
The creation of this album sought to bring us closer together
To have all of us in
selfish a little more wise how I'm selling
Only of the good vibrations
Good vibrations
Good vibrations
Good vibrations
Backstreet boy with an attitude
the 411, hun?)
I know you got it going on
(Hey yo, I got it going on) (I'm a bad boy)
As I sit back relax
Steam a blunt, sip a Becks
Think about
you
The more you talk, the more you irking us
The more you gonna need memorial services
"The Black Album"'s second verse, is like
Devil's pie, save
do I entertain y'all with my disrespect?
Respectfully (Great John on the beat, by the way)
Lil Nas X gon' catch AIDS and die like Eazy-E (he is)
the 411, hun?)
I know you got it going on
(Hey yo, I got it going on) (I'm a bad boy)
As I sit back relax
Steam a blunt, sip a Becks
Think about
nigga Boo in this bitch
My nigga hot boy album, ya'know what I mean?
500 Degreez
They all ridin' with ya boy
Fi-Fi
They gotta feel me
Birdman
Y'all saw me at Kanye's third album with my cap no cap
Keep going video really happened ain't just rap
Barz just like that
When my family saw me
is
Only know the definition if the
Television tells us it
Public Enemy #1 they treat
Me like Professor Griff
This album has been in the
Making
we took it all around the world
I got fans in retirement homes, to teenagers, to little bitty boys ans girls
Droppin' lyrical bombs up in ya' hood,
the valley with the shadows of death
My homies gone so I'm walkin this valley all by myself
We miss our boy lil' Willie so much he was like a brother to us
your city with this backstreet ease
I swear sometimes I feel like the last MC
The most valuable, I told em I'd be MVP
The least malleable, molded by
your city with this backstreet ease
I swear sometimes I feel like the last MC
The most valuable, I told em I'd be MVP
The least malleable, molded by
"What About Us" like it's muhfuckin Jodeci
I got them bitches; they want to be close to me
I got 59 over here with me
Dozer with dreads, he used
forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
I probably owe it to y'all, proud to be locked by the force
Tryin' to hustle some things,
forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
I probably owe it to y'all, proud to be locked by the force
Tryin' to hustle some things,
mills
My boy kitchen's done, lookin' like a flour mill
You niggas' faces lookin' like you drink sour milk
And your albums like some mothafuckin' fire
z
I guess by now you can tell you miss me
The baddest motherfucker in rap history
One to the temple put you out your misery
That's not an album
beats and you been eatin em from me
Its like im sellin to a fiend out on the backstreet
Overcoming these obstacles aint no easy feat
I didnt say its
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